Fully Qualified
by mistymidnight
Summary: Ever notice that when you think you've got control, the past has to come and bite you in the butt? Willow has made a life and job for herself post-"Chosen" but not all is as it seems...
1. Job Perks

**Title: **Fully Qualified

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG. May change later to PG-13, though I highly doubt it. And that's the absolute highest it'll go.

**Disclaimer: **Joss owns the canon and characters, and gidgetgirl owns the plot. Where does this leave me, you may wonder? Broke and living off mac and cheese.

**Timeline/Spoilers: **Post-Chosen. Spoilers up til there, pretty much.

**Summary: **Ever notice that when you think you've got control, the past has to come and bite you in the butt? Poor Willow.

**Author's Notes: **This is another challenge from gidgetgirl. I really know that I sohuld be working on one of my other works in progress ("Nonsense", "Haven't Changed A Bit", "Crush" and "Becoming What?"), but I saw this one and I couldn't resist. I'd post the challenge requirements here, but I don't wanna spoil the story. If you don't care about being spoiled, head on over to Chocolate Covered I'll post the link directly to the challenge itself later. Otherwise, the challenge outline will be posted at the end of the story, however long it may be.

Oh, and if you read the challenge requirements, please don't give them away when you review. (And, just because I said that, one obnoxious person will go ruin it for everybody.) If you really can't resist the call of the obnoxious, review ananoymously so I can delete it. Muchos gracias. And if you read the "spoilers" and have things you'd like to discuss with me, send me and email at or IM me: mistymidnight45. I welcome any questions or comments. Oh, and for reference? I don't count flames as questions or comments. Or even as reviews really. So don't even think about it.

Final note: Obviously not AU, which you'd know if you read the timeline/spoilers. It's gotten to the point where I'm almost positive I'm the only one on that really reads them. =)

Oh. This note is the final final truly final note: the spelling and grammar in this may be a little messed up. I'm writing without a beta, spell or grammar check, and no caffiene in my system. (Uh-oh.) Sew thiz mite be ful ov errers. (That last sentence was a joke. Just in case you didn't figure that out.)

**Chapter One: Job Perks**

_The best thing about this job,_ Willow thought, leaning back comfortably, _is the super kooshy chair I get. It's like a career requirement or something. Everyone with a PhD has a comfy leather chair._

The redhead swivelled around in said chair and turned to her lunch: Salad. Same as usual: lettuce, tomato, cucumber, onion, green pepper, croutons, cheese, alfalfa sprouts. Ranch dressing. Italian bread with butter on the side. Willow Rosenberg was a creature of habit. Habit was reassuring. People with routines were better adjusted. Even with all her education, Willow wasn't still paticularly sure as to _what _people with routines were better adjusted to. Difficulties? Or just life in general? _Or maybe helping their best friends avert apocalypses._ Willow smiled. She'd never given up on the "good fight" so to speak, except she fought frm a different angle now. Starting with the people who had to deal with the outcomes of the battles: the kids.

"So you're saying that the slayers are _really_ spies sent from the vampires to turn us all into vampires as well?" Willow asked gently.

Eight-year-old Zane nodded enthusiastically. "And they'rve started with my mom!"

Willow reached out to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but jerked her hand back when Zane shrank away slightly. Wilow mentally smacked herself on the forehead. How could she forget that Zane hated having any form of physical contact with anyone? _I just haven't been myself lately, _Willow mused. _Wonder why. _

"Zane," she began kindly, "you don't have to be afraid. You know that Slayers aren't spies for vampires. Why would they kill vampires if they were in cahoots with them?"

"To throw us off," Zane said seriously.

"That would be like killing your own soldiers," Willow pointed out. "No one would do that. If there was a big battle the odds would be against the vamps."

"Good," Zane said darkly. "But--"

"No buts," Willow said quickly. It was most likely not the best course of action, but she had been seeing Zane for months and he hadn't made any progress. "Listen, Zane, I want you to draw me a picture..."

"This is kind of fun," Zane remarked, saying each word cautiously as to not lose his eight year old manliness. He selected a blue crayon and began to color the sky, but then shoved it abruptly back in the box and took out a black crayon instead. "It's night," he explained to Willow. "'Cause, you know, sun will kill the vampires."

"Why don't you make it day time, then?" Willow suggsted. "Then there won't be any vampires."

Zane shook his head and began coloring a black swirly sky, a la Van Gogh. Willow sighed. Zane would not let go of this vampire thing. There had to be a reason. Unfortunately, she wasn't going to find out what it was today. "Zane," she said, checking her watch, "our time's just about up. Why don't we put the crayons away?"

Zane groaned and began to unceremoniously plunk the crayons back into the multi-tiered box Willow had supplied. "This was a little funner than most days," he remarked.

"'More fun', not 'funner'," Willow corrected lightly, "And I'm glad you liked the activity. Maybe we'll do it again next time."

"Please?" Zane asked, giving her a pleading I'm-eight-now-do-what-I-say look.

"We'll see," Willow smiled, standing up. She walked over to the office door and opened it, letting Zane into the waiting room where his mother was waiting.

"What do you say to Dr. Rosenberg?" Zane's mother prompted.

"Thank you, Dr. Willow," Zane said. Zane called her Dr. Willow, and no amount of correcting from his parents would change it. Willow didn't mind. In fact, she encouraged it. She told her patients to call her whatever they felt comfortable with. As far as she was concerned, forcing everyone to call her 'Dr. Rosenberg' seemed wrong. After all, psychology deals with people and what makes them tick, so to speak. If Zane felt comfortable calling her Dr. Willow, then that was fine by her.

"Erin," she said to her secretary, "who's last up for today?"

"Nobody, surprisingly," Erin told her. "Thayer's stepdad called to cancel. Apparently her parents are going on vacation and Thayer would have no way to get here."

Willow sighed. "They're only contributing to the problem," she said. "Besides, I could have picked her up and dropped her off. It's really not that big of a deal. It's not so far out of the way."

Erin shrugged. "I'm just the secretary. You're the one with the PhD."

Willow smiled and patted the woman on the shoulder. "Soon, Erin. College will be over before you know it."

Erin gave her a thin smile. "Great."

"You'd better believe it, Sister," Willow joked. Getting serious, she added, "If therearen't any more patients today, I'll head on home and take some of the filing with me. You can head home early, too, if you want. Could you just stay until around five-ish in case anyone calls to make an appointment?"

"No problem," Erin said. "I'll leave a note for Brian to water the plants over the weekend."

"Great," Willow said. "If you get a chance, tell him I may be in on Sunday to update some files and things."

"Will do," Erin assured her. "Have a good weekend."

"Thanks, you too." Willow returned to her office to grab her sweater and her keys, and then she was on her way home.

* * *

Okay, first chapter. Tell me what you think--review! Any suggestions for psyche tests, etc., let me know--I'd love to hear them!

mistymidnight

Up next...Willow's house, Willow and Scooby interaction, and back to the daily grind of the office.


	2. You're Very Killable

**TItle: **Fully Qualified

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **Joss owns the characters and canon, gidgetgirl owns the plot and some of the characters: Zane, Thayer, Lola, and Sophie. I own Erin. And Maxwell. =)

**Summary: **Even notice that when you think you've got control, the past has to come and bite you in the butt? Poor Willow.

**Author's Notes: **Sorry about the last chapter's numerous typos. I'll be using a spellcheck this time, though it's my email spellchecker, so don't expect miricles.

Also, big apology to gidgetgirl! Zane, Thayer, Lola, and Sophie are hers, as well as the plot. There was some reason I didn't include the characters in the last chapter, but I can't think of it now. It was probably a bad reason. Someone in the logic department of my brain is gonna be fired... =)

Also, I'm setting the story in Toronto. Don't ask why. It's just that when I once visited Toronto, I saw gorgeous apartments near the Sky Dome, which is, for you people who are clueless to baseball, where the Toronto Blue Jays play. But if I ever move to Toronto (which I doubt I will), I wanna live in those apartments. They're pretty and I bet that if you lived on a high enough floor, you could watch the ballgames from your balcony. How cool is that?

I'll also explain why Willow moved there, but not until a later chapter.

Anyhow, that's about it on the notes. Read on!

**Chapter Two: "You're Very Killable."**

Willow unlocked the door to her apartment, breathless. The elevator was broken and she'd had to walk up twenty-two flights of stairs. She had taken a rest when she had stopped to visit with some people in the fifteenth floor, but other than that, it had been straight up, no delays.

She dumped her purse on the little table near the door and flipped on the light switch, even though it wasn't exactly dark yet. The light illuminated the apartment, relecting off the huge glass windows and sliding doors that led to the balcony. Willow looked out the window. _There must be game tonight, _she thought, watching people fill the stadium. _Cool._

She came across her to-do list and carefully read it, checking off things as she came to them.

When she was finished, the list said:

-Call Buffy

-Do laundry

-Feed Maxwell

Willow decided to tackle the easiest task first. "Maxwell!" she called, wallking to the kitchen. "Maxwell, are you hungry?" She opened the cabinet and took out a bag of cat food. "Maxwell!" She shook the bag for effect. Suddenly a little ball or grey fur came rocketing into the kitchen and sat expectantly by its bowl.

"That's my good kitty," Willow said, slipping into the cutesy voice that was reserved for animals and babies. "That's my Maxwell-baby." She poured some food into his bowl and rubbed under his chin. "Aw, you like that, huh? That's my good boy." She good up to put the food away and Maxwell crunched happily at his cat food.

Next up: Call Buffy. Willow had been looking forward to this all day. She picked up the phone and dialed the overseas number to Rome.

* * *

_RIng...ring....ring..._Willow waited patiently. It usually took a few rings before Dawn or Buffy picked up the phone. There was a cluck on the other end, a shuffling noise, then she heard a voice say, "Ciao?"

"Hey, Dawn, it's Willow. Is Buffy there?"

"Hold on just a sec," Dawn said. Willow heard the phone get set down on the table, nd then heard Dawn scream, "Buffy! Phone for you! Willow!"

After a few seconds, Buffy picked up. "Hey! What's up?"

"Nothing much," Willow told her. "Just calling for the routine gab session."

"So make with the gabbing," Buffy demanded. "How's work?"

Willow sighed. "Okay, I guess. I got home early today because my last patient cancelled. But before that, I was working with Zane. He's still convinced there's a vampire-slayer conspiracy."

"Still?" Buffy asked. "Aren't kids supposed to outgrow this stuff?"

"That's what his parents thought," Willow said, "which is why it took them so long to take him to me. They thought he would outgrow it."

"And he hasn't."

"Big check in the 'no' column."

"Well that's no fun."

"No, it's really not. But speaking of vampires and slayers, how are you doing? Having happy slayage?"

Buffy groaned. "I'm actually getting bored. I think I've killed maybe one vamp all week. Where are they?"

"The Hellmouth?" Willlow suggested.

"I dunno," Buffy said. "Maybe it has something to do with all the garlic in Italian food."

"It could," Willow said reassuringly.

"Maybe I'm getting _old_!" Buffy said suddenly.

"Huh?" Willow didn't quite get the connection between Buffy's lack of vamps and her age.

"I mean, a good amount of the vamps that come my way are all 'Slayer, I'm gonna kill you!' But I haven't seen any vamps lately. Maybe they've all decided there's no sport in killing me. It'd be like shooting fish in barrel. It's like, 'poor old Buffy, no challenge to kill her at all...let's go find someone we'll actually be proud to say we killed.'

"You're very killable," Willow said, trying to comfort her. "If I was a vamp, I'd kill you in a second."

"Thanks, Will," Buffy said dryly, "but somehow not the reassurance I was looking for."

"No, but think about it for a sec," Willow persisted. "You've died twice, but you won't stay dead, kind of like the stuffed dog I had when I was six..."

"What?"

"Oh, I had this stuffed dog that barked and moved its paws whe you hugged its tummy. But one day I was sitting in my room after I played with it and it started barking and moving all by itself. I was convinced it was possessed. That was before I knew about the Hellmouth and everything, of course. Turns out it was a battery glitch or something. But no matter what I did, the dog just wouldn't stop."

"Sounds freaky."

"And very irritating if you're trying to sleep through it. The point is, any vamp that could say, 'Hey, guess what? I killed Buffy Summers, the Slayer Who Would Not Die!' would be an instant celebrity. I mean, as vamps go, that's a pretty big un-life goal."

"You think too much."

"Hey, psychologist here. Kind of my job."

"Just don't shrink me."

"No, I'd have to charge you for that."

"How much?"

"Depends on how much help you need. And don't forget, you pay in Canadian dollars."

Buffy laughed. "Thanks, Will."

"For what?"

"You just gave me a whole 'feel better Buffy' session. I guess I owe you now."

"Nah, what are friends for?"

"Convincing you you're killable, apparently."

"Well, you're welcome."

* * *

Another done...I know there wasn't much in the way of Willow's job there.

mistymidnight

TBC...next time: Meet the Patients!


	3. Sleepy

**Title: **Fully Qualified

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen.

**Summary: **Same as the previous chapters. Duh!

**Author's Notes: **This is gonna be a short one. I'm sleepy. =)

**Chapter Three: Sleepy**

"And that's a home run by David Ortiz! This doesn't look good for our Toronto Blue Jays!"

Willow sat on the balcony with a full caton of ice cream and watched the tiny people run around the baseball field. She wasn't a big baseball fan, but it kinda grew on you. And it was completely free to watch from her balcony. Who wouldn't take advantage of a free ballgame?

She shoveled another spoonful of butter pecan into her mouth and focused her attention back on the field. It was hard to see the players themeselves, but the huge TV screen in the stadium helped her follow the game. The Jays were playing the Red Sox tonight. The Red Sox were winning. _Must let Faith know somehow,_ Willow thought. _Didn't she live in Boston as a kid. This'll be music to her ears._

A little butter pecan dribbled down her chin and she wiped it roughly with a paper napkin. The Jays' mascot was inspiring the team by breakdancing on top of the dugout. _Don't see how that inspires the team, since it's kind of hard to watch what's going on over your head._ Willow was amused nonetheless. Having the talent to breakdance in a bulky Blue Jay suit was talent.

Her spoon scraped the bottom of the ice cream container and Willow looked down in surprise. She hadn't meant to finish the carton off tonight. She shrugged. It wasn't like one slip-up would kill her. She'd just skip the ice cream tomorrow. No biggie.

Maxwell meowed at the screen slider, begging to be let out. Willow refused. Someone on the third floor had let their cat on the balcony once and it had fallen three stories to the ground, stood up, licked itself, and sauntered around until its owner came to retrieve it. Willow had a feeling that Maxwell would not fare so well from the twenty-second story.

Anyhow, she was getting tired anyway. It was the bottom of the eighth and the Jays were down by nine runs. The outcome of the game seemed fairly obvious. Willow yawned and stood up, stretching. "Okay, snuggle-kitty," she said playfully. "I'm coming." She gathered up the stuff from the balcony and opened the slider. After putting it away she washed her face, changed into an oversized T-shirt, and crawled into bed. Maxwell jumped up beside her and lay on her other pillow, purring and slowly sweeping his tail back and forth. Willow drifted off to sleep.

Somewhere, a girl sat up in bed and screamed in grief.

Willow didn't hear.

* * *

TBC...next time (as promised for three chapters), Willow goes back to work!

Thanks to all who reviewed! You're all so sweet. This is me being happy for no flames or 'you stink!' reviews.

mistymidnight


	4. Daily Grind

**Title: **Fully Qualified

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **Joss and gidgetgirl own the majority. I own Erin the secretary--er, administrative assistant-- and Maxwell, thus far.

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen.

**Summary: **Who really reads this after the first chapter, anyway?

**Author's Notes: **Not that much to say. To quote Seinfeld: "I am speechless! I am without speech!" (There's a Seinfeld quote for everything. There's also a Seinfeld marathon on ALL DAY.)

**Chapter Four: The Daily Grind**

At promptly eight o' clock Monday morning, Willow walked into the office, greeted Erin, hung up her coat, and sat down in her office. She didn't have any appointments until eleven, but she wanted to get some filing done. Technically, one might say, filing was Erin's job, but Willow wanted to look over notes she'd made on various patients. Zane, for one. She had to help him get rid of this slayer-vampire conspiracy theory. She knew he was probably doing it for attention, because Zane was by no means an unintelligent child. In fact, he was extremely bright. Bright enough to know that everything he said couldn't possibly be true. But he came from an extraordinary family. His mother was a Watcher, and his father was as well. Zane, in the meantime, was not.

_It seems to me,_ Willow read in her old notes, _that Zane feels his academic accomplishments are dwarfed by everything his parents do. Both his parents are intelligent as well, and he feels like nothing special. His visits to me get his parents to pay attention to how he is different from them._

It made sense. But how to show Zane that he didn't have to come to a psychologist to be special?

Then Thayer. Thayer had some problems with her temper. Having Slayer powers didn't help, either. Willow was always getting calls from Thayer's mother and stepdad saying that Thayer had beat someone up _again_, Thayer had detention _again_, Thayer was on the verge of suspension _again_. Willow could not figure out what was making Thayer so angry, and why she couldn't go to the source of her anger. _She keeps taking it on on others,_ she read. She wondered why she had made a note of such an obvious thing. Oh, right. That was written on Thayer's first visit.

Sophie, though, was probably the most difficult case. Sophie was ten years old and had not spoken a word since she was eight--the year her parents were killed. Willow knew that Sophie's parents had been murdered--in fact, Willow and Kennedy were the ones that had saved Sophie from being killed as well.

Kennedy. _I wonder how she's doing, _Willow thought. She hadn't spoken to or emailed Kennedy for over a week. _I can't believe it's been that long! Note to self: email Ken when I get home. _

She hadn't seen Kennedy in person since they'd split up a year and a half ago.

I had been completely mutual. Kennedy had wanted to continue being the roaming Slayer. The longest they'd spent in a place had been right after Sunnydale. They had lived in Brazil for a few months, then moved to England to be close to GIles and the new Council for awhile.Well, awhile turned into a few years, and Willow made use of the time earning her degree in psychology. Kennedy had traveled around Europe during that space of time, always coming back "home" every few weeks or so before leaving again about a week later.

Then they had come to Toronto.

Willow felt more at home there than she had since Sunnydale. She had no idea why. Toronto was not what she thought of as her cup of tea. Tall buildings, busy traffic, bright lights, air pollution. But it was so beautiful at the same time. Kennedy, on the other hand, hated it. That was surprising. Willow couldn't see why Kennedy didn't love Toronto. Kennedy wanted to keep moving. There was a Hellmouth in Cleveland she just _had _to see, thank you very much. But Willow was not willing to leave. In the two weeks they had stayed in Toronto, it was home.

The decision wasn't so hard. Willow would stay, Ken would go. There would be no more WillowandKennedy, it would be Willow and Kennedy. Separate, but still close. Friends.

And the transition was surprisingly easy. They called, they emailed. But neither had moved on to a new girlfriend.

Willow remembered discussing that with Kennedy one day over the telephone. "Do you notice how even though we broke up, neither of us is dating again?"

"I did notice. I'm observant that way."

Willow smiled, even though she knew Ken couldn't see it. "Wonder why."

"Mmm."

"Maybe we're not over each other," Willow said, half-seriously. In complete honesty, she was over Kennedy. But she didn't want to be rude or hurtful.

"Or maybe," Kennedy said, "I used to be intimate with a great friend of mine and now, even though I'm not, I'm afraid to hurt her feelings. Because she means that much to me."

Willow smiled again. "Maybe."

And that was that. They were friends. No more, and certainly no less. But Willow knew she'd never regret her time with Kennedy. It just hadn't been meant to last, that's all.

She turned back to her files. Lola, who was practically leading a double life, and doing it very convincingly for a four-year-old. Lola One was a happy, bubbly preschooler: affectionate, playful, imaginative. Lola Two was a dark and sad little girl. What Willow had to figure out was why, and how to help her. Lola was a new patient, and her third visit was scheduled for quarter of one today, after her half-day preschool class let out for the day.

Willow closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

_Monday, here I come._

* * *

TBC...

mistymidnight


	5. Have Patients

**Title: **Fully Qualified

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **Fill in the blanks: Joss owns the . Gidgetgirl owns the . I own , , and Taylor Hill. (ooh! new character!)

**Spoilers/Timeline: **post-Chosen. I thought I'd established that fact.

**Summary: **Ever notice that when you think you've got control, the past has to come and bite you in the butt? Porr Willow.

**Author's Notes: **The introduction of a central character! Thus ends the exposition of the story and begins the rising action. Enjoy the ride!

Oh, and forgive the Bad Pun that is this chapter's title.

**Chapter Five: Have Patients**

"Mommy!" Willow looked up at the sound of the word. It was muffled from behind her office door, but she would know that voice anywhere.

Erin stuck her head in the door. "Lola and her mom are here."

Willow nodded. "So I've heard. Have them come right in."

Erin nodded and turned toward the waiting room. "Dr. Rosenberg says to come right in."

Willow sat up a little straighter in her chair and opened the drawer in which her notes on Lola were kept.

"Mommy!" Lola exclaimed, running over to Willow.

"Hey kiddo," Willow said. "It's great to see you."

"I'll be back in half an hour, sweetheart," Lola's mother said to her daughter.

"Okay, bye Mommy."

Lola's mother turned to Willow. "I'll be right down the street. You have my cell number?"

Willow smiled. "As always."

Lola's mother nodded and left. Lola looked up at Willow expectantly.

"Okay, kiddo," Willow said. "Why don't you have a seat?" She gestured to the two comfy black leather chairs in front of her desk. After a moment of careful four-year-old deliberation, Lola chose the seat on the right.

"Now," Willow said. "How was your day today, Lola?"

"Good!" Lola exclaimed. "We drew pictures and we had graham crackers with peanut butter and then we blew bubbles and then Mommy picked me up."

"Did anything bad happen today?"

Lola hesitated for half a second. "No."

"Lola, do you remember what we said?"

Lola sighed. "I don't always have to be happy. But why not? I like being happy."

Willow got up and sat in the other chair beside Lola. "I know, Lola. It's good to be happy. But no one is happy all the time. You don't _have_ to be happy all the time."

"Do you want me to be sad?"

"No! Of course I don't! And that's why I'm telling you it's okay not to be happy every single day. You don't have to be perfect, Lola."

"But I can't be bad. I'll get coal at Christmas."

Willow sighed. Leave it to Lola to think about Christmas gifts at any random time.

"I'm not telling you to be bad, Lola. There's a difference between being good and being perfect."

"Like what?"

_Talk yourself right into a corner. Way to go, Rosenberg._ "Umm...good people make mistakes, Lola. I make mistakes. Your mom makes mistakes and so does your dad. Nobody can live their whole life without making any mistakes."

"Jesus did," Lola said promptly.

"He may well have," Willow agreed, straining to remember everything about Christianity she'd ever learned. "But didn't he die for people to save us from our sins?"

"What's our sins?"

"The bad things we do, Lola. See, nobody's perfect. The world has been around for a long time--"

"Gazillions of years," Lola added helpfully.

"Right. Gazillions. And no one--except Jesus," she added hastily, "was perfect."

Lola considered this. "If Jesus died to save us from mistakes," she said slowly, "aren't they bad?"

Willow sighed. She'd never meant to get into a religious discussion with Lola. "Listen, kiddo," she said. "You're not Jesus. You're not anybody but Lola. And no one expects you to be anything else. So tell me about your day. But don't tell me what you did. Tell me about your feelings. How did you feel when you woke up?"

"Tired."

"Okay. How about at breakfast?"

"Hungry."

"Lola, I'm not talking about tired and hungry feelings. I'm talking about happy-sad feelings."

"I know."

"So how did you feel at breakfast?"

"Hungry."

"Lola," Willow tried again. "Were you happy at breakfast?"

"Not really."

"Were you sad?"

"Uh-uh."

"Were you angry?"

"No."

"So you weren't feeling anything except hungry?"

"Nope."

"Okay. Did you feel like that all day? Not happy, not sad, not angry?"

Lola thought. "Yeah."

Willow scribbled something down. "How do you sleep, Lola?"

Lola wrinkled he forehead. "Huh?"

"Do you wake up in the middle of the night?"

Lola looked at the floor. "No."

"Lola, tell me the truth."

Lola looked at her foot and mumbled, "Sometimes."

"Okay, so you wake up sometimes?" Willow asked.

"Yes."

"Do you know why?"

Lola shook her head. "Sometimes it's because they're too loud," she said.

"Because who is too loud?"

"Mommy and Daddy. Sometimes they talk too loud."

"They talk too loud?"

"They yell."

"Oh. I see. This bothers you, doesn't it, Lola?"

The four-year-old nodded, her eyes on the floor. "I wish they wouldn't."

"I understand, Lola." Willow stood up. "Well, it looks like time's up. I'll see you on Friday, kiddo."

"Bye, Mommy."

"Lola," Willow said. "I'm not your mommy. Your mommy isn't here right now. She's coming to pick you up."

"But I love you," Lola said. "You're nice."

"Thank you, Lola. That means a lot to me. But you can love me even if I'm not your mom. I'm either Dr. Rosenberg or Willow, okay?"

Lola nodded. "Okay."

Willow smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "Until Friday, sweetie."

She walked the little girl to the waiting room, where her mother was standing. "Hi, sweetheart!" she greeted Lola. "Do you want to go for ice cream?"

"Yay!" Lola exclaimed. Mother and daughter left.

"How was she today?" Erin asked quietly.

"She was Lola," Willow said simply.

* * *

The rest of the day went by quietly until almost four-thirty, when a young woman and a little girl came rushing in.

"Can I help you?" Willow asked. She had happened to be behind the desk checking files and Erin was in the ladies room.

"I hope so," the young woman said. "Is Dr. Rosenberg in?"

"That she is," Willow said with a grin. "I'm Dr. Willow Rosenberg. Nice to meet you..."

"Carly," the woman said. "Carly Hill. This is my daughter, Taylor." Willow walked out from behind the desk and knelt down nxt to the little girl. "Hi, Taylor," she said. "I'm Willow."

"Hi!" the little girl said in a friendly manner. "Are you a real doctor?"

"I am," Willow said. She turned to Taylor's mother and raised her eyebrows in question. _Taylor seems fine to me. _But years of training had told WIllow to never go with first impressions. If Carly had brought her daughter here, it was for a good reason.

"Erin," Willow said, catching her secretary's attention the second she walked in. "Will you keep an eye on Taylor here? Her mother and I will be in my office."

"No problem," Erin said. She walked over to the little girl. "Look," she said, digging a toy out of the big bin next to a row of chairs. "Wanna play a game with me?"

Taylor nodded and Willow gestured for Carly to follow her into her office.

"So, Mrs. Hill," she began.

"Uh, Miss Hill," Carly said. "And call me Carly."

"Okay. Carly. I'll be blunt. Why did you bring Taylor to me? She seems like a well-adjusted girl."

"She was," Carly said. "Until about a month ago. Then she started acting stragely."

"Strangely how?" Willow asked, taking notes of the conversation.

"Well, it started with dreams, or something. She'd wake up in the middle of the night screaming things that made no sense. I know that's not really unusual, especially for a kid her age, but it got worse.

"She started acting strangely when she was awake. She'd completely switch personalities. One minute she'd be outgoing and the next she'd be stuttering and shy. And it gets worse. One day I told her to turn the TV off. She turned around and said to me, 'I hope you freaking die, stupid woman.' Just like that. I sent her to her room, and she _snarled _at me. Like an animal."

"Like a vampire," Willow said without thinking.

"I guess," Carly said. "And afterward, she didn't remember anything."

"So she has mood swings," Willow said.

"I think it's more than that," Carly said. "One day after her kindergarten clss, I asked her how school went and she said, 'I did it, Mommy. I did it. I feel them all.' She didn't remember saying that, either." Carly leaned forward. "Look, I've heard wonderful things about you. I know you have a great reputation in the psychological community. And I don't know who else to ask."

* * *

mistymidnight


	6. Quick Change Artist

**Title: **Fully Qualified

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **Well, I was planning on taking all the credit, but then I realized the previous disclaimers would prove me a liar. Oh, and the fact that I'M NOT JOSS WHEDON!!! (Or gidgetgirl. She owns the plot, as well as Zane, Sophie, Lola, and Thayer.)

**Spoilers/Timeline: **post-Chosen. I thought I'd established that fact.

**Summary: **Ever notice that when you think you've got control, the past has to come and bite you in the butt? Poor Willow.

**Author's Notes: **You all have gidgetgirl to thank for this chapter. Really. She was ever so kind in her reviewing and reviewed chapter five _twice_ to get me to update. In the mean time, some of you aren't even reviewing at _all._ Seriously, I'm on people's favorites lists and everything--but some of the people that have me listed as their "favorite" didn't respect me enough to let me know how I'm doing. It's flattering to be put on a favorites list, but I love reviews ever so much. I'm not doing this for money, obviously. If you must know, I'm in it for the feedback. I consider myself a writer and I want to know how I can improve, and what I'm doing right. I'd even settle for a simple "Update soon!" but I prefer a more detailed review. At this point, I'd rather get harsh criticism (not to be confused with flaming) to no feedback at all.

Deep breath. Okay, done with my rant. Gidgetgirl, you rock. Thanks for the reviews. On with the story.

Oh, okay, one minor interruption here...sorry about the grammar and spelling mistakes. I'm doing the best I can with no automatic spellcheck and a mediocre back-up. Bear with me.

**Quick Change Artist**

"Taylor," Willow said, poking her head out the office door and into the waiting room, "will you come in, please?"

The girl jumped up and walked into the office.

"Have a seat," Willow suggested, gesturing to the empty chair next to Carly. Taylor looked at her mother, who nodded, and sat down gingerly in the chair. Willow noticed the sudden change in Taylor's demeanor. The bouncy little girl who had just walked in was all ready showing signs of her extreme mood swings.

"So, Taylor," she said. "Your mother says you've been having some strange things happen to you lately."

Taylor nodded timidly.

"Can you tell me about any of them?"

Taylor shook her head, staring at her hands folded on her lap.

"Why not?"

Taylor said something very softly.

"I can't hear you, sweetie," Willow said kindly.

"I--I don't remember," Taylor said quietly.

"You don't remember?"

"I said it once," Taylor snapped suddenly. Carly jumped and Willow blinked in surprise. "Do I have to say it over and over? You treat me like a pathetic--"

Taylor's eyes squeezed shut and when she opened them, a slow smile grew across her face.

"Everybody wants to help," she said coolly. She stood up and began to walk slowly in front of the desk. Her movements seemed a little too fluid. "Poor little me. So helpless." She stopped in front of Carly, who was whispering, "Oh, God. Oh, God."

"He can't help you now," Taylor said in a sing-songy voice. "No one can help you. You're just a scared animal. But you haven't gotten on my bad side." Her grin grew bigger, and Willow was shocked by the pure evil in it. "Wait until you do."

Her eyes closed again, and she opened them and snickered. "Don't think you can stop me," she said. "I have more power than you'll ever know."

Her eyes squeezed shut and she opened them again. "I understand," she said clearly. "I see." She smiled, this time not evilly, and closed her eyes gently. When she opened them again, she looked around. "What happened?"

Carly grabbed her daughter in a hug. "Thank God. It's okay, Baby. I'm here. I'm here." She turned to Willow. "Please help her. I don't know what to do. I've taken her to medical doctors and they all say the same thing: it's all in her mind. But Taylor just doesn't _do_ this. She doesn't go wild for attention. If she wants attention, she asks for it directly. She wouldn't do this. She just wouldn't! And I've heard other things about you. I've heard you specialize in strange cases. If this isn't strange, I don't know what is."

"I'll do my best," Willow promised.

"I don't mean to be rude," Carly said, "but I hope to God your best is good enough."

* * *

"So she just switches moods at the drop of a hat?"

"No moods," Willow corrected. "Personalities. It's like the strange case of Taylor Hill and...Taylor Hill."

"Not your best analogy, Will."

"I'm losing it in my old age."

"I knew it!" Buffy exclaimed on the other end of the telephone. "I'm getting old!"

"Come again?"

"If you're old, I'm old. I'm older than you."

"By three months or so."

"That's three months more of Botox treatments."

"You don't need Botox."

"Yet."

"Okay, change of subject. How's Dawn?"

Buffy sighed. "Driving me nuts. She's still looking for a new apartment."

"What was the matter with the old one?"

"She got evicted. She didn't pay rent on time."

"Once?"

"Seventeen times."

"Oh."

"She doesn't pay her half of the rent _here_ on time, either."

"Well, that's no fun."

"Not for me. For her, it's a free month of living. Eating my cereal. Using my Internet. Clogging my bathtub drain with _her _hair. It's like when she was in high school."

"Ah, the good old days."

"Before I got old."

"You're not old."

"You said the good _old_ days. I took Intro to Psych, too, Miss I-Have-A-Degree-In-Psychology. I know a Freudian slip."

"That wasn't a Freudian slip."

"FIne, it wasn't. But you were _alluding _to the fact that I was old."

"I'd be insulting myself."

"Even still."

"Change of subject, please."

"Okay. How's Kennedy?"

Willow gave herself a mental smack on the forehead. "I don't know, actually. I haven't talked to her for awhile. I meant to call her."

"Oh. I'll let you go, then."

"Okay. Don't let Dawn's drain-clogging ways get you down."

"Did I mention she hogs the hot water, too?"

"Goodbye, Buffy."

"Bye, Will. Take care of yourself. And good luck with Split-Personality Girl."

"Thanks. Later."

"Bye."

Willow set the phone down and went to her laptop. She had an email to write. Actually, a few. And she had to get started right away.

* * *

mistymidnight

TBC...the more reviews, the sooner the update! If I don't get ten SEPARATE reviews for this chapter, I won't update! I'm evil!


	7. One of Those Days

**Title: **Fully Qualified

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **Nada, nope, no, zip, zilch, zero, uh-uh, and, uh, not a chance.

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-"Chosen". Same as the last six chapters.

**Summary: **Ever notice that when you think you've got control, the past comes to bite you in the butt? Poor Willow.

**Author's Notes: **Yes, I am an evil hypocrite, asking for ten separate reviews in order to continue. Fortunately for all of you, I'm an easily swayed evil hypocrite. You have gidgetgirl to thank for that. )

BTW, gidgetgirl--In all honesty, it puts me off as well when writers demand a certain number of reviews per chapter. Why did I do it, then? Because...good question, actually. I'm desperate, that's why. (This is where I get whiny about the lack of reviews...for the sake of all involved, we'll skip the rant and move on...) ...blah, blah, blah, making no profits from writing...blah, blah-de-blah, reviews are my reward for spending my time writing and updating...blah, blah, blah. Sorry for my immense hypocritical-ness (obviously not a word...). But I won't be sorry for begging for reviews. It's my dignity that's at stake here, people! Please! Feed the starving artist! )

**One of Those Days**

Willow sat up in bed and yawned, glaring at the radio alarm as it happily announced a stabbing that had occurred on the subway the previous night. "...victim said to be in critical condition. It appears the victim was attacked by a man with severe facial..." Willow slammed her hand down on the radio and swung her legs over the side of the bed, accidentally kicking Maxwell. He gave a strangled _meeewl! _of unhappiness and ran out of the room as quickly as his little legs could carry him.

_Oh, _Willow thought, _so it's going to be one of _those _days._

After a scalding hot shower, a lack of shampoo in the bottle, weak coffee (all for the best, she supposed--she didn't want to be too jittery all day), and a car that took three tries to start for some reason, Willow was off to work. Maxwell had been hiding all morning. She gave it until dinnertime that night before he'd even venture near her again. Maxwell, like all cats, was good at holding grudges, but bad at going hungry.

As she drove, Willow realized that she was letting her bad start o the morning get her down. "Bad Willow," she admonished herself. "The day starts over as of...now." She plastered a big, goofy grin on her face. "I am happy," she assured herself. "This will be a good day." She waited. The day didn't feel any better to her. "Music," she said out loud. "Music is good for cheering-up." She turned the radio on and was hit with the same news story she'd heard that morning: "A thirteen-year-old female was attacked by a man wielding a knife as she she rode the subway home after apparently visiting a friend. Despite multiple scratches and stab wounds to her arms and stomach, she is expected to recover quickly. Doctors say that the wounds were shallow and the girl is healing abnormally quickly.She is going to be kept in the hospital for observation in case of an infection."

Willow shook her head. What was wrong with the world today? People stabbing kids on subways...parents hurting their own children...a stopped car right in front of her...

Willow realized what she was thinking and slammed on the brakes just before she rear-ended the car in front of her. _A miss is a good as a mile. I guess._

She drove in silence to the office and parked in her usual spot. As she walked toward the elevator, her cell phone began to ring. She fished it out of her pocket and flipped it on. "Hello?"

"Willow? I'm so glad I caught you."

"Erin?"

"Yeah. I'm really sorry, but I'm sick. Throw-y upp-y and all. THere's no way I can come in today."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Erin."

"I'm sorry to be telling you. Well, anyway, Aimee's gonna cover my shift today."

"Oh. Aimee."

"Look." Erin lowered her voice a little. "I know Aimee's not the greatest at filing and stuff, but her heart's in the right place. She'll do what you ask."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"She will." Erin coughed. "Sorry. Gotta go. I had a popsicle a little while ago and I think it's on it's way back for an encore."

"Okay, I'll let you go," Willow sighed. "Feel better."

"I'll try. Bye."

"Bye." Willow sighed again and snapped the phone shut, stepping out of the elevator.

Yep, it was definitely going to be one of those days.

TBC...next time: how Willow's day turns out.

mistymidnight


	8. A Frantic Phone Call

**Title: **Fully Qualified

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, plot, or canon--they're property of gidgetgirl and Joss Whedon, respectively. In fact, I own nobody except Taylor, Carly, Erin, Aimee, and Maxwell. I wish I owned Willow's apartment. To any lucky person living in my dream apartment building in Toronto--you'll share, right? Please! I'm in love with those apartments! I--

_Readers pause and watch in a rather freaked-out way as mistymidnight continues her love of inanimate objects...okay...she's done. For now._

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen. Spoilers for pretty much the entire series.

**Summary: **Ever notice that when you think you've got control, the past comes back to bite you in the butt? Poor Willow.

**Author's Notes: **Yeah, my apartment building obsession is a little freaky. Okay, bordering on "moderately freaky". Deal with it. )

Sorry about the long lack of updates, but (in my defense) I've been busy! Since I last updated, I've added tons o' stuff to the site, had a graphic-making epiphany, been assigned my episodes at Virtual Slayer (link's in my user profile), and, in "real life", I've been cast as the Stage Manager in "Our Town"! Rejoice with me! Joy!

Oh, side note about being cast in "Our Town": for those of you who don't know the play very well, "Stage Manager" is actually a role, not a backstage crew position. The Stage Manager is like the Greek Chorus--narrates the play and plays small roles throughout.

On with the chapter!

**A Frantic Phone Call**

"Dr. Rosenberg?"

Willow looked up from her usual lunch--salad with ranch dressing and Italian bread on the side. "Yeah, Aimee?"

"Uh, Ms...." Aimee checked her notes. "Ms. Hill's on the phone. She says it's an emergency."

Willow sighed inwardly. Aimee was a great sport, Erin was right about that, but Aimee couldn't serve as a secretary to save her life.

"Well, if it's an emergency, put her through."

"See, that's the thing." Aimee moved her foot along the carpet. "I don't know how to put the call through."

Willow sighed out loud. _Her heart's in the right place. Her heart's in the right place. Her heart's in the right place. _If she kept up the mental chant, maybe it would make Aimee a little more tolerable. _Her heart's in the right place. Well, she can take that heart and shove it--_

_Whoa. Where'd that come from? _Willow frowned. _Geez. I guess today's really taking its toll on me._

Willow got up and walked out into the receptionist's desk. "Here," she said, "watch closely. Just push this button here and then hang up the phone, and it'll ring in my office."

Aimee nodded. "Okay."

Willow rushed back to her office and picked up the ringing phone. "Sorry," she said. "My secretary's out sick. What's wrong?"

Carly said, "She's doing it again."

"That's an emergency?"

"It was different this time."

"Why? What happened?"

"She _bit_ me."

"She _what_?!"

"BIt me. Like a vampire or something."

"A-a vampire?"

"Yeah."

"What else? Did she do anything else? Did she...change?"

"Change? You mean like, personality?"

"No, did she--never mind. Just bring her over."

"Uh, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because she's somehow locked herself in her room. I can't get the door open."

"Try using a bobby pin."

"I would, but here's the weird thing: Taylor's door doesn't have a lock. I don't know how she's keeping it shut. It's like magic or something."

_Magic?_

"Stay right there," Willow said. "I'm coming over."

I planned for it to go on longer, but that was just too good of a cliffhanger to resist! Reviews are the gasoline for my writing machine.

Sorry for the shortness. You can yell at me and call me evil, if you like.

mistymidnight


	9. The Clock Is Ticking

**Title: **Fully Qualified

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **Do I look like Joss? (Well, technically, none of you know what I look like, since I don't post my picture on the Internet, but, to clear up any confusion, I don't. Look like Joss, that is.) And I also don't look like gidgetgirl. She owns the plot and the characters of Zane, Lola, Thayer, and Sophie, none of whom are mentioned in this chapter.

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen. Obvious spoilers.

**Summary: **Ever notice that when you think you've got control, the past comes back to bite you in the butt? Poor Willow...

**Author's Notes: **I'm bored. And what do you do when there's nothing to do? Write. (Okay. Other answers I considered were sleep, eat, watch TV, play on the computer, and check my email every three seconds in hopes of some desperate link to the outside world. But for all fanfiction purposes, writing was--and is--my final answer.)

I may be evil, cutting off that last chapter where I did, but you people are evil-er! (Not a word, but still...) Two reviews for the last chapter? That's it? ) angryteabag and gidgetgirl, thank you for your reviews. Because of your good reader-li-ness, I give you personal massages:

angryteabag: I don't really have plans to bring in any of the Scoobies, at least not at this point. Maybe when I finish this fic I'll do another Dr. Willow post-Chosen that involves the Scoobies, but it won't be W/G, sorry. I'm not particularly a fan of that pairing and I therefore don't write it. But if I did include Scoobies in another Willow post-Chosen, there'd most likely be Willow-Giles interaction, just not of the couple-y kind.

gidgetgirl: Thanks for the multitude of reviews. They're what's keeping this story going, at this point. Yeah, and looking back on the magic/vampire thing, it is a bit obvious. I hope it's not _too_ obvious. Oh, well, we shall see. I'm still working on that Little Dawn Halloween fic, by the way. Okay, so it's actually been sitting in the 'My Documents' folder since July or so. I guess I'll try to post it before Halloween, which is--oh crap! --three weeks and a day away. Darn it.

Everybody else...no reviews? What the heck happened???

Please review this time. I'm begging you!

**The Clock is Ticking**

When Willow arrived at the Hill's house, via the rather sketchy directions she was given by a panicky Carly, everything seemed fine at first glance. Taylor had apparently given up barricading herself in her room and was now happily watching television, while Carly struggled to stay calm so she wouldn't scare her daughter, who, as usual, didn't remember anything.

"Hi, Dr. Rosenberg," Taylor chirped. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to check on you, actually," Willow said. "Taylor, so you remember what you did this afternoon?"

Taylor rolled her eyes upward, the way people do when they're trying hard to remember something. "I, um, came home from school, and I ate an apple and then I watched TV."

"Do you know what time you come home from school?"

"Mommy picks me up when the little hand is on the three and the big hand is on the twelve."

Willow glanced at Carly. "Three o' clock?"

Carly nodded.

"How long does it take you to come home, Taylor?" Willow asked.

Taylor shrugged. "I don't know, but when I ate my apple the big hand was on the four and the little hand was on the three. I remember that because it reminded me of the scissors I was using to cut out my paper dolls."

"You were cutting out paper dolls while you ate your apple?"

"No, I was cutting them out last night, but I, um, forgot to clean up after." Taylor glanced at her mother apologetically.

"Okay," Willow said. And after that, what did you do?"

Taylor hesitated, then answered, "I watched TV."

"How many TV shows did you watch?"

"Just this one," Taylor said, pointing to the cartoon playing on the screen.

"Taylor," Willow said, "look at the clock. Can you tell me where the hands are?"

Taylor glanced at the clock hanging above the television and said after a moment, "The big hand is almost on the five and the little hand is on the eleven." She smiled proudly.

"Good job," Willow said. "But Taylor, did you know this show only goes for half an hour?"

"It does?" Taylor asked, obviously confused about the half-hour concept.

"Taylor," Willow said, "you told me that you started watching TV just after you ate your apple at three-twenty, when the big hand was on the four and the little hand was on the three."

"Yeah."

"And now it's four fifty-five. The little hand is almost on the five. What did you do for an hour and a half?"

"I watched TV."

"You said you only watched one show."

Taylor was looking a little upset. "I did."

"But it only lasted a half-hour."

"No it didn't!" Taylor yelled, jumping off the couch and stomping her foot. "I watched TV! I didn't do anything else! Stop talking to me! Just go away! Leave me alone--" She stopped yelling suddenly and her body went stiff.

"Oh, no," Carly whispered. "She's starting again."

Taylor's eyes opened and she stared at Willow for a second. "Taylor," Willow said softly "Listen to me. Something is wrong. I'm going to help you. You just have--"

Taylor pantomimed a yawn and said something that made Willow's heart jump into her throat:

"Bored now."

Another cliffhanger! Eeee!

I'm thinking that, instead of heavily incorporating the other kiddos (Zane, Lola, Thayer, and Sophie) into this fic, I'll do a sequel-type thing where Willow has more adventures in the supernatural, and of course, in psychology. Let me know what you think--

mistymidnight


	10. The Strange Case of Willow Rosenberg and...

**Title: **Fully Qualified

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **Do I look like Joss? (Well, technically, none of you know what I look like, since I don't post my picture on the Internet, but, to clear up any confusion, I don't. Look like Joss, that is.) And I also don't look like gidgetgirl. She owns the plot and the characters of Zane, Lola, Thayer, and Sophie, none of whom are mentioned in this chapter.

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen. Obvious spoilers.

**Summary: **Ever notice that when you think you've got control, the past comes back to bite you in the butt? Poor Willow...

**Author's Notes: **I've got...oh...about five or ten minutes to spare before I'm off to work. Let's see how fast I can write this chapter...

**The Strange Case of Willow Rosenberg and Taylor Hill**

"W-what did you say, Taylor?"

"I said, 'bored now'," Talyor snapped, then her voice became silky smooth. "Wanna know what'll make it better? If I can play with the puppy."

Willow frowned. "I don't remember there being a puppy."

Carly whirled around. "What are you talking about?" she demanded. "What do you know about Taylor?"

"This isn't about Taylor," Willow said, her voice void of emotion. "It's about me."  
"What in God's name are you talking about?!" Carly asked. "Of course this is about Taylor! Something is wrong with my baby and you're not fixing it!"

"Carly," Willow said. "Taylor is...I don't really not how to explain this..."

Carly was becoming more upset by the second. "Well you'd better figure out how to explain it, and you'd better figure it out fast."

"Well--" Willow began.

Taylor started toward them menacingly. Willow held up a hand and said quickly: _"Kali, Hera, Kronos, Tonic--"_

"What are you doing?" Carly screamed. "What's the matter with you?"

Willow ignored her and continued to chant. _"Air like nectar, thick as onyx, Cassiel by your second star, hold mine victim as in tar."_

Taylor froze in mid-step, evil grin still in place. "That won't stop me for long, witch."

"Witch?!" Carly screeched. She grabbed Willow shoulder and jerked her around to face her. "What did you do to my baby?"

"It's a spell," Willow said. "Don't worry, it won't hurt her. But it won't hold her for long. I have to explain some things."

"You're damn right you do!" Carly shrieked. "What's the matter with Taylor? What did you do? Have you been doing this?"

"Swearing in front of the children," Taylor said silkily. "Tsk. Bad."

"Oh, shut up," Willow snapped. "Taylor--the _real _Taylor--won't remember it anyway."

"She remembers everything," Taylor taunted. "She says she doesn't, but she does."

"Oh, just shut your mouth," Willow snapped. She turned to Carly. "Listen, Carly, this is gonna be hard for you to accept..."

"No," Carly interrupted. "What's hard for me to accept is that my daughter is possessed or something and you've had a hand in it all along!"

"No, I haven't. Carly, you have to listen to what I'm about to tell you, and you have to believe me, or we may never get Taylor back."

Carly sat back. "Okay," she said coldly. "Give me the expostition."

Willow took a deep breath. "When I was in high school, I was really shy and only had two friends, Jesse and Xander."

Carly sighed. "I'm hoping this story has a point."

Willow nodded. "I met a girl named Buffy Summers. She was the Slayer."

Carly raised an eyebrow. "The Slayer."

"It sounds really dumb when I say it," Willow muttered. "Well, anyway, the Slayer is chosen to fight demons and vampires."

"And witches and goblins," Carly added sarcastically. "Listen, I don't know what kind of drugs you're on, but this is absurd."

"No, _you_ listen," Willow demanded. "If you want to get your daughter back, you have to listen to me."

Carly's eyes narrowed. "Are you threatening me?"

"No. I'm trying to _show_ you what's going on."

"Demons don't exist."

"I suppose you don't believe in witches or vampires, either."

Carly frowned even more. "No, I don't."

"Neither did I," Willow said, "until I was nearly killed by a vampire. I was sixteen and I was nearly murdered by an evil bloodsucking fiend. That's enough to make you believe," she finished dryly. "And how do you think I froze Taylor? Sheer will power? No, Carly, that was magic, witchcraft if you prefer, and you'd better start believing. If not for you, then for Taylor. She needs you."

Carly gave Willow a brave stare and seemed to soften to her story a little. "Okay. Go on."

Willow breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, long story short, I think Taylor is a reincarnation of a piece of my personality. Not that I'm the seductive, violent type," she added hastily. "You see, a, uh, friend of mine was angry and made a wish, which came true, in a sense. She created an alternate world in which I was a vampire."

Carly's face looked strange. "If you weren't a pschologist," she said, "I'd send you to one. This just gets crazier and crazier."

Willow gave a small groan. "You haven't heard half of it," she sighed. "The wish was reversed and the world was right again. I actually came face-to-face with my vamp counterpart. Not fun, believe me. Well, anyway, after this I went off to college and began practicing magic. I became more and more outgoing, eventually falling in love with an amazing woman named Tara. She practiced magic, like me. I loved her so much. When she was...when she was killed, I was driven over the edge by grief. I went, um, evil. And I tried to destroy the world."

"Lovely," Carly remarked sarcastically. "Remind me again why I'm trusting you after all this?"

"Because my oldest friend saved me," Willow told her. "He stopped me from making the ultimate mistake. And I began to learn how to use my power for good."

"Okay, Glenda the Good Witch, that explains some of Taylor's behavior."

"Right. The shyness, the evil-ness, all me. I'm not proud of it, believe me."

"What about...?"

"What about what?"

"One of the first times Taylor was...changing. She said, 'I did it. I feel them all.'"

Willow thought for a second. "That was me, too. I cast a spell that activated Slayers all over the world."

Carly just looked at her.

"It's a lot more impressive if you actually know the Slayer lore."

"Frankly, I don't give a crap about your 'Slayer lore' right now. I want some answers. Why you? And why Taylor? Why now?"

"That," Willow answered, "is what we need to find out."

* * *

Not my favorite chapter by far, but I adore the title. I've been waiting to use it since the beginning of the story.

Also, forgive any grammer or spelling mistakes. No spellcheck and no beta makes misty a crappy proofreader.

mistymidnight


	11. The Big Finish

**

* * *

Title: **Fully Qualified 

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **Do I look like Joss? (Well, technically, none of you know what I look like, since I don't post my picture on the Internet, but, to clear up any confusion, I don't. Look like Joss, that is.) And I also don't look like gidgetgirl. She owns the plot and the characters of Zane, Lola, Thayer, and Sophie, none of whom are mentioned in this chapter.

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen. Obvious spoilers.

**Summary: **Ever notice that when you think you've got control, the past comes back to bite you in the butt? Poor Willow...

**Author's Notes: **I'm sleepy, and what better way to calm down than to write a climactic chapter? Tee hee…

**A/N2:** "Pario" means "bring forth" in Latin.

**The Big Finish**

Willow glanced at Taylor, then at Carly. "Are you sure you want me to do this?" Willow asked.

Carly nodded. "If it will help Taylor."

"I hope it will," Willow said. "And it'll probably help me, too. In the long run."

"Come again?" Carly asked.

It had been two days since Taylor's "spell". She'd had minor episodes in the past couple days, but nothing like the one in which she'd switched personalities for two hours. The only thing Carly and Willow could do was wait it out and make sure Taylor didn't hurt herself. So they had ordered a pizza and had a movie ready for Taylor to watch when she "came back".

Carly had kept Taylor out of school, telling the principal that Taylor was being "psychologically evaluated" for personal reasons. Luckily, this explanation went over well. No one had any suspicions yet, but if Taylor stayed out for much longer, the administration would probably wonder exactly what kind of evaluations Taylor was undergoing.

The night after the Taylor drama, Willow phoned Giles in England for his help in researching. As much as Willow wished she could just sit and research Taylor's condition all day, she had other patients (not to mention Aimee) to attend to. And she had to figure out a time to squeeze in a visit to Thayer.

Willow had found out that Thayer had been the subway stabbing victim just after Taylor's "incident". _Just one thing right after the other_, she thought. Thayer's mother had called to cancel Thayer's session for the next few days, and apparently had gotten to talking with Aimee about Thayer's condition. Nobody was worried; Thayer was healing well, and the doctors were preparing to send her home. There were no signs of infection or resulting problems from the stabbing, but the man that had stabbed her had not been captured yet. _No surprise there,_ Willow thought, remembering the newscaster's remarks about "strange facial distortion". _It's probably a vamp. _

But right now she needed to concentrate.

The spell Giles had found was very sketchy, but it was their only hope of ending Taylor's problem. It would bring forth the entities inside her, and hopefully Willow would be able to "face her fears", so to speak. Willow had pondered the meaning of that all last night as she lay in bed, trying to sleep. _Okay, I get why Vamp Me is freaking me out. And Evil Me. But Shy Me? And Good Witch Me? Why should I have emotional baggage with them…or me, rather? They're not really negative. _

She tried to convince herself it would be okay, that she'd rise to the occasion (once it happened) and beat down her…self.

Carly watched Willow carefully. "What should I do?" she asked.

"Sit with Taylor," Willow instructed. "Hold her, and don't let go, no matter what."

Carly gulped nervously. "Okay."

They sat down across from each other. Taylor looked frightened, understandably.

"It'll be okay, Taylor," Willow assured the little girl. "We're gonna help you."

Taylor gulped and nodded. Willow closed her eyes and began chanting: "_Pario. Bring forth that which is concealed. Pario. Show that which is latent. Pario. In sleep, the being lies. Pario. In sleep, shall it be defeated. Pario. Awaken, sleep no more. Rise, leave the body of your keeper. Pario. Pario. Pario. Rise._

Taylor convulsed and gasped for air. Carly looked petrified, and tears rolled down her cheeks at the sight of her daughter.

"Fingers crossed" Willow mumbled.

Out of Taylor's choking mouth came a fog. It grew large before separating into four separate figures, which began to take the shape of…

"Me," Willow whispered. _Well, here goes._

Taylor gasped for air, and this time the oxygen reached her lungs. She began to breathe again, but she wasn't having an easy time with it. _Better make this quick, Rosenberg._

"Well, if it isn't _me_," the first misty figure said. It was beginning to fill with color and its features were becoming more pronounced. _Okay, tackle the vampire first. _

"Oooh, look," Willow's vampire double sneered. "I'm not fuzzy anymore."

"Gave up the fuzziness awhile ago," Willow returned conversationally, before her voice took on a colder tone. "Can't say the same about you. You're still the same skanky bloodsucker you were years ago."

Vamp Willow's form flickered. "Oh, ouch," she retorted. "That hurt my feelings. If I had a working heart, it would've broken. Really," she added, a sarcastic bite in her voice.

"If I wanted to hurt your feelings," Willow said, "I would've by now. But see, I'm not like you. _I_ actually have friends. Real friends, not minions. People who respect me just because, not people who only respect me because they fear me."

"Your point?"

"You aren't me. You'll never be me. You're a sad, skanky imitation. You don't exist here and you don't belong here. _I _do. This is _my_ world. And I want you out!"

There was a flash of light, and Vamp Willow's form disappeared. Taylor gasped before her breathing became slightly easier.

Willow smiled. _All those years of psych are finally paying off in a big way. Next? _She turned to the next misty form, which by this time had taken the form of Willow, with long, straight hair and a plaid dress.

"You," Willow said. "I can't figure out what my problem with you is. You're a part of me."

The other Willow smiled. "It's like an algebra problem," she said, smiling. "It's really simple if you know the basics."

"I outgrow you. Me. That phase. Whatever. You're not who I am any more."

"Keep going," Other Willow said. "You're getting there."

"I mean, I left those days behind."

"That's the ticket," Other Willow remarked.

"What is? I feel guilty about outgrowing my shyness? Why should I?"

"Think," Other Willow commanded.

"I mean, I don't know what my problem with you is." Willow stopped, and then a look of realization came over her face. "I felt untrue to myself."

"Now you've got it."

"I felt like I'd strayed from my normal life and left it behind for something more exciting."

"You changed."

"So did other people."

"But you knew…"

"…they weren't all good changes." Willow thought. "I thought I'd changed for the worse."

Willow thought back to a day in preschool. She and Xander were sitting in the Block Area playing with building blocks, watching their friend Hannah play house with the other kids. Or, rather, watching their former friend Hannah play house with the other kids.

"Why doesn't Hannah like us any more?" Xander had asked.

"She changed," Willow had replied, using a term she heard her mother use all the time.

"Well, changing is bad," Xander had declared. "I don't ever want to change." He had turned to her and said as sincerely as was possible for a four-year-old, "Willow, don't ever change."

"But we did change," Willow remarked to her former self. "Not just me, Xander, too. We grew up and learned to read and watched PG-13 movies and stopped wearing footy pajamas. There's nothing to feel guilty about."

Her other self simply smiled and disappeared with a flicker of light.

Willow moved on to the third figure, a woman with pale skin and dark hair. "How did I know," Willow began, "that you would come back to haunt me?"

"Because I am you," her dark self replied. "You can't explain me away as the result of a freak dimension hop or of a childhood "trauma". I'm part of you."

"Not anymore," Willow snapped. "You haven't been a part of me for a long time. Not since those last couple years in Sunnydale."

"I'm always a part of you," Dark Willow told her. "Every time you do a spell, every time you think of Tara, every time you sleep and eat and wake up, I'm there. I'm in your soul. You can't get rid of me."

Willow stared at her for a moment, then looked her in the eye. "You're right. I won't ever get rid of you. You're always inside me. So is my appendix. Doesn't mean I depend on it. I don't need it. And I don't need you. I might not be able to surgically remove you, but hey, I don't have to. Because you're not a factor in my life any more. Leave me alone."

Dark Willow disappeared in a flash of light, and Willow was left staring the last figure in the face.

"Now you," she said, "puzzle me the most. You symbolize my greatest triumph. Why should I have baggage with you?"

The other Willow, awash in white light, pushed a few strands of white hair out of her face. "Because, in your triumph, you returned to the pain of defeat."

"I saved us," Willow insisted.

"But there were others," White Willow reminded her.

"I did all that I could," Willow said. "I couldn't have done anything different. Anya and the Potentials—the Slayers—their deaths weren't my fault. The magic saved them."

"And it was the undoing of others."

"Tara."

The White Willow nodded.

"The magic is what killed her."

"Ultimately."

Willow accepted this explanation, then frowned. "No," she said slowly. "The magic didn't kill Tara. Warren killed Tara. I didn't do anything. It was a horrible twist of fate, but magic wasn't a factor. And the magic I used for the Slayers was good and pure—it was not the magic that drove Tara away."

White Willow smiled. "Enjoy life, Willow," she said warmly, and disappeared.

Taylor took a final gasp of air, and then her breathing returned to normal. Carly breathed a sigh of relief and hugged Taylor. "It's over," she whispered, tears on her cheeks. "She kissed Taylor's head. "It's finally over."

"You know what?" Willow said thoughtfully. "I don't think it is."

Carly gave her a strange look before going back to fussing over Taylor. Willow watched contentedly.

_All in a day's work._

* * *

Yay! It's done!

Thank you to all who reviewed—you're the best!

Keep your eyes peeled for ficlets involving Willow's other patients a sequel. (Hopefully, I'll remember to tie up any loose plot points then. There was a reason behind Taylor's situation, but I'm not telling right now…mwahahahaha!)

Until I get around to writing the sequel and posting (I'm gonna wait awhile to "build up the suspense"…), here's a teaser for those of you who wish to be somewhat spoiled:

_Carly held the cell phone closer to her ear. "So, I'll see you Wednesday, right after I pick Taylor up. And thanks so much."_

_"No problem. Always a pleasure to babysit."_

_Carly frowned at the road as she switched into a lane with less traffic. "I feel like such a bad mother," she confessed. "I've been working late all the time. I barely see my little girl any more."_

_"You're not a bad mom," Willow assured her. "You're just busy, that's all. I'm sure Taylor understands."_

_"I don't know," Carly said. "She's usually so bubbly and eager to tell me about everything. Lately, she's just been withdrawn and kind of touchy."_

_"Is it because of—"_

_"Noah?"_

_"Kids don't always like having to share their parents with someone else."_

_"It's only been a few dates. I don't even know if it's serious yet."_

_"Neither does she. But I'll bet it's what she's afraid of."_

_"Probably." Carly turned on her blinker and drove onto the exit ramp. "Well, maybe a day with you will cheer her up."_

_Willow smiled. "Here's hoping." _

* * *

_She could see them again. They were here. And they were mad. And the hands, the hands were coming, coming, coming, and they were grabbing her neck and squeezing hard. Tears streamed down her face and lights flashed in front of her eyes. The hands hit her. She fell and it hurt it hurt it hurt…_

_The bruises would never fade…_

_…if they were real. _

* * *

Yeah, that little selection is subject to change…

Also, this section was written by an extremely tired me. THhe only reason I'm still awake is because I had WAY too much Mountain Dew, M&M's, cookies, and brownies at the party I was at tonight. I can already feel the cavaties coming...

So please forgive any bad writing. I tried to make for it with a good long chapter.

mistymidnight


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